Two Simple Words
by Ozymandias9
Summary: It's amazing what can be done with two simple words. Bellatrix centric, OOC. Out of practice, so R&RCC please. Unbetaed.


Two Simple Words

On the fourth floor of a castle hidden somewhere in southeastern Whales, Bellatrix Lestrange fell unceremoniously onto her bed. This had been, by far, the most trying day of her life. She had killed before. She had even killed family. But that had been different: she reviled Sirius. She had been taught to hate him since she was a child. He was a blood traitor; filth, trash. His death was not only justified, it was desirable.

But tonight… tonight had been different. Cissy wasn't a blood traitor, but a loyal death eater. Her only fault was not murdering her son at her lord's command—being loyal to her blood over the cause. And wasn't that supposed to be the cause: loyalty, purity, blood?

She still couldn't quite believe that she had done it. That Cissy was dead. She wasn't even sure how she was able to do it, how she was able to make her self hate Cissy, who she loved above all others, enough for the spell to work. Avada Kedavra; two simple words. She had never thought so much about those two little words before—never had they weighed so heavily on her mind.

But one thing weighed more heavily. What Draco had said. After the hours of torture, hours under the Cruciatus, he was tossed into a cell and called a blood traitor. At first she was surprised that he was lucid enough to speak. But that quickly faded as his words echoed in her mind. When they called him a blood traitor, he had responded that "There's no one left to betray."

And for all her anger at his failure, Bellatrix couldn't escape the fact that the brat was correct. More correct, in fact, than he knew. Azkaban had been more trying on her than she admitted, even to family. The experience had left her barren. And now Cissy was dead. In her mind, she went through the names of all the relations she could recall. Regulus, Sirius, all Aunt Lucretia's sons: all dead. Most of ones alive were blood traitors: Andromida, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms. There was her husband Rudolphus and his brother, but they remained what they always had been—little more than convenient tools. If she reached as far as the Crouches she could count Barty, but he was rotting in Azkaban: she hadn't been able to get word whether or not he had been kissed before the dementors switched sides. Of course Lucius was there as well, but she could hardly expect that he would be spared the fate of his wife and son.

So that left her; her and a family full of blood traitors. Or was she the traitor now? Now that nearly all her kin had taken up arms against her, could she really claim to be a loyal Black.

Bellatrix shuddered at her thoughts. In almost thirty years, she had never doubted her loyalty to the Dark Lord. But she doubted it now. He had promised great things to the loyal, the pure: power, prestige, a return to the days when they held firmly the reigns of society. But what did she have now: her family was dead, she was in hiding, and her very name spat like a curse in the society she was supposed to control. They had been loyal, pure, true to the cause beyond all others. And yet instead of being rewarded, they were being killed off, one by one, not by their enemies, but by their lord.

This all led her to one conclusion. One she could barely bear to think of: the Dark Lord had betrayed them. He had cast aside his promises to those who killed for him, bled for him, died for him, because they no longer suited him.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has never taken betrayal lightly.

It had been many years since Bellatrix Lestrange had acted on impulse. It was a habit that had been forced out of her at a young age. She did not return to that habit now. She knew the consequences of treachery: she had seen Regulus' body and participated in the punishment of what few others there were. Had any Death Eater expressed to her the thoughts she now considered, she would have turned them over to the Dark Lord and certain death. She knew that she would not live out the night.

But perhaps Draco would. There were not many who remained at this hidden headquarters, and her skills were not inconsiderable. Six, maybe ten, would remain in the castle. She could hold them off, at least until he arrived. It might just give Draco enough time to get away. She would have to trust that Lucius had prepared somewhere safe for his family, somewhere secret even from his Lord.

She rose abruptly and moved to her potion cabinet. From it she selected a dozen potions and secreted them away in the pockets of her robes. She was thankful that she kept them measured out in single doses: any larger containers would have been conspicuous.

From there she moved to her jewelry cabinet. She removed from it a silver locket. For over a decade Cissy had kept it safer for her while she rotted in Azkaban. She opened it and looked one last time at the picture of her and her sister as children. They were so happy, so free of the cares that burdened their adult lives. Focusing her mind on an alley two blocks west of the Leaky Cauldron, she began the complex spell required to form a portkey.

Five minutes later, with the potions and portkey secured, she made her way as quickly and silently as possible to the great hall, where hours before she had killed her sister. There, next to Cissy's body on the stone floor, was Draco's wand. It was broken in two. What remained of her hopes dashed, Bellatrix fell to her knees over the body of her dead sister. As held her sister's and fought back the tears, a ridge in Cissy's robes brought one more possibility to her mind. Draco's wand was broken, but his mother's was not. It wasn't ideal, but it might work. It had to work.

Checking that no one was watching, Bellatrix took her sister's wand and went to the dungeons. As she approached Draco's cell, she caught sight of the guard. She could not afford to play games tonight, not when she was betraying the most powerful wizard alive. "Avada Kedavra"—two simple words. The spell that killed Walden Macnair hit him even before he turned to see who cast it.

With a cursory effort, she removed the locking spell from the door. Time was now limited: another guard on patrol would check on Macnair soon. They had, at most, 15 minutes. She retrieved an orange potion from her upper right pocket and poured it down her nephew's throat. She threw the empty vial aside and repeated the process with a blue vial as his eyes began to open. By the time he swallowed, he was more or less lucid. She handed him his mothers wand and a red potion. She began transferring the remaining potions from her robe to his as she explained, "Draco, listen closely. The Dark Lord has betrayed us, the most loyal of his followers. You have to run. Far and fast. Run some place safe. I—I don't know where, but you have to find somewhere. You're all that's left. You have to survive. I'll hold them off as long as I can."

By the time she finished, he had downed a fourth potion and was on his feet. Time was slipping away from them, and she had to get Draco outside and 20 yards away from the castle before the portkey would function. Renewing her resolve, she grasped his wrist, pulling him along. They barely got out of the basement before they encountered Avery. Two simple words and they were running again.

They had reached the edge of then entry hall by the time they met any more resistance. "Keep running" was all that Bellatrix said to Draco as she turned to halt their pursuer's advance. There were 4 of them. Though she hated to admit it, the two simple words would no longer suffice: Goyle and Yaxley may be idiots, but Alecto and Amycus were too skilled not to take advantage of an opponent that betrayed what they were casting.

As ran out the entrance he looked back. As he did, he noticed three things. First, he saw that 4 had become 6, one of which was the Dark Lord. Second, he saw Rudolphus fall to the ground, a slice across his heart that Draco recognized as the same curse that scarred his chest. And third, he felt his arm begin to burn as the Dark Lord stepped from behind Snape and saw him exit the door. Draco marshaled all his remaining focus to deal with this new pain and continued running. He was very close now to escaping. So very close.

Voldemort's gaze did not long linger on the teenager: the young Malfoy was out of his immediate reach, but he could still be dealt with easily and quickly enough. Now he turned his attention to Bellatrix. It really was a pity to loose such a useful servant, but disloyalty was unacceptable. Without any hesitation he flicked his wand at her. She fell to the ground, unable to move. He walked forward and stood over her before he spoke: "You knew the price of betrayal." A second later, he moved his wand again; "Avada Kedavra," green light, and one more dead body. It really was convenient what you could do with two simple words.


End file.
